She works through another section, then lets out a small laugh. “You know you can relax, right?”
“What?”
“I can feel how tense you are,” she says, fingers still moving. “You’re acting like I’m about to take off your ear.”
“That’s a reasonable concern.”
She laughs. “How short do you want it?”
I shrug. “Short.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Short enough it stays out of my eyes.”
She runs her fingers through it again, considering. “That leaves a lot of room for interpretation.”
“I trust you.”
“Dangerous choice.”
“Just don’t make me look like I lost a fight with a crab.”
She snorts. “Even then, it would still be an improvement over your usual method.”
“Hey, my method works.”
“If you say so. But time to trymymethod.” The scissors close with a softsnip, and a lock of hair falls past my shoulder, landing in the sand. “Too late to back out now.”
She shifts closer as she works, moving around the log to get a better angle. The scissors snip softly near my ear. Loose strands slide down the back of my neck, her fingers brushing them away. The contact is quick, but my shoulders tense anyway.
Another snip and more hair falls.
She leans in to check the line, and that faint scent of coconut and flowers drifts past me. I wouldn’t have paid attention to it before. Now it’s impossible not to.
Her hand moves through my hair again, lifting a section while the scissors trim the ends. A light scrape of her nails follows, and I fix my gaze on the horizon.
It’s just a haircut, Dane. That’s all this is.
She steps around to face me, checking the other side. As she passes, her thigh brushes my knee—brief, barely there—but my body notices.
I clear my throat and keep my eyes forward.
Behind me, the scissors click again. “Hold still.”
“I am.”
“You moved.”
“I breathed.”
“Same thing.”
Another lock falls, sliding over my shoulder before dropping into the sand. She leans over slightly to check her work, her arm brushing mine as she reaches across.
I go still, focusing on the horizon.
Just a haircut. Nothing more.
